Not About Angels
by xXxNever-Trust-A-DuckxXx
Summary: Riley Jones wasn't exactly a brave warrior. She didn't fight demons, she raged an internal battle with her own body. For nearly three years she has fought against the cancer slowly consuming her brain, and the odds aren't looking bright. Riley couldn't fight otherworldly monsters any more than she could fight her eminent death, but Tiberius Blackthorn and his twin won't accept no.
1. Prologue

It is often said that readers have no life, or that dreams are of the childish things that we leave behind as we grow older. Wishing on a star becomes laughable as the years go by, and hope only brings pain and disappointment. Of course, there are some exceptions, or we wouldn't have libraries full of fantasy, or charities trying ruthlessly to end world hunger.

Some choose to go along with it; to pat the dreamers on the head and go on with life, as so not to hurt their feelings. Some choose to crush the rainbow before it leaves the cloud, if only to avoid the trouble it may cause later on, claiming that hoping for a happily ever after won't bring it any closer.

But readers don't read because they have no life, but because they choose to live another. We don't dream to bring those dreams to life, but to escape the harshness of reality. We don't wish in hopes of it actually coming true, but for the sheer excitement and beauty of an alternate reality. And for those like me, we have a good reason to.


	2. Cancer

"I'm sorry, Mom! I forgot!" Immediately after the words came out, I regretted them. Hurt was plain on my mother's face.

You see, I have this thing called a brain tumor. It's malignant, or cancerous (the word actually means monstrous, which turns out to be very true), and in the temporal lobe, which effects memory. This consequently means that I forget stuff. A lot.

It's usually just stupid things like brushing what remains of my dark mop of hair in the morning, or tying my shoes, which is why most pedestrians recognize me best when I'm face down on the ground.

This time it was my neglect of locking the back door while I went out to the coffee shop down the street. Thankfully nobody broke in (or walked in), but it still brought on a harsh 'chewing outing' by my mom, that very soon came screeching to a halt.

Her eyes had welled up with unshed tears. This wasn't anything new, but since we got the news that the tumor was too risky to remove, and was not responding to treatment, any slight progression was like a step closer to my doom, at least to Mom and Dad.

She rushed me into a hug, clinging on to me for life. This, though, did not do wonders for me on the grounds of the tumor hogging my oxygen, and less breathing equalled no bueno.

"Mom," I rasped, and she let go as quickly as she had latched on.

"Sorry, sorry. I forget," she said, then winced. I rolled my eyes. I really hated cancer. And all the pity that came with it.


	3. Shadowhunter

"I'm heading out to the Coffee Stop," I yelled to my mother.

"Okay, just call me if you'll be out past four!"

I waved and stalked out the door. If there was one thing that made me bitter, it was that a fatal diagnosis usually constitutes becoming a loner. I virtually had no friends.

Zip.

None.

It wasn't all horrible; I mean, there come times in the cancer kid's life when you don't want a bunch of people trying to help you and understand. They have good intentions, but they look at you like a sickly animal—and in a way, you are.

My mom's pretty much good with anything as far as going out on my own. Where most parents would flip at the thought of their daughter being who knows where, or at some stranger's house, mine are extremely laid back.

When you think about it, they have good logic. Neither of them have said so, but they didn't care if I wandered the streets because, honestly, what psychopath would want to kidnap a sicko? They weren't concerned about me doing naughty things with strange boys. They probably thought I wasn't even physically capable of said scandalous acts. Guys were not attracted to me—the past few years had made sure of that.

I scowled at my beat-up chucks and fiddled with my beanie. With a hat on, I just looked like your everyday tomboy—short-cropped hair, scrawny, 5'7 height. Without a head cover, though, you could plainly see the scar tearing its way across the side of my head.

The surrounding area had been shaved for the surgery in attempt to remove the tumor, but it was too big a risk to take it out completely. Following radiation treatments kept my hair from regrowing in a patch around the scar.

The old-fashion bronze bell above the door jingled as I walked into Coffee Stop. I breathed in the familiar smell of coffee beans and dust between the pages of an ancient novel. In this place—my second home—I could almost take in the stories of _Jane Eyre_ and _The Odyssey _just by catching a whiff of the books lining the East wall.

I sunk into my booth in the corner and pulled out my copy of _LittleWomen_. I'd fallen in love with the novel, but mostly the strong role of Jo March.

She was everything I admired: smart, dedicated, and argumentative, which was one thing I had going for me. Pre-diagnosis, everyone had told me I'd make it big as an attorney. Riley Jones _never_ lost an argument.

My painfully ordinary world was just beginning to melt away into Civil War New England, when a harsh crash shocked me back into my gray reality.

I growled and not so discretely made my way out of the café and around the corner. I steam rolled into the alley on the opposite side of the wall my booth was against. _If this is that Brady kid and his stupid "band" again. . _.

But what my eyes met when I rushed around the corner was not a bunch of guys attempting rock music. Well, they were teenagers, but both tall, muscular, and dressed in black, completed with leather boots and glinting weapons sheathed all over their persons.

They seemed to be hunched over a pool of black goop near some garbage tins, but straightened when they caught sight of me.

The girl, who looked so much like the boy that they had to be twins, unceremoniously stuck out her tongue at me, then continued to make a rude gesture.

"Livvy, quit that!" The boy gave her a reproachful look.

"Why? It's so fun to tease the mundies. They can't even see us."

The boy sighed and ran a hand through his dark locks. His eyes fluttered closed. "But that doesn't justify being rude."

"I just said, Ty. They can't even–"

"Excuse me?" I was frankly fed up with them talking like I wasn't right there. I'd come across some nasties that treated me like a dying dog, but that didn't mean I had to lay there and be kicked. "I'm standing right here."

The girl stood like a gaping fish, going red in the face. The boy analyzed me with curiosity.

"Hello?" I waited for a response before giving up. "Forget it, but please keep it down, that racket is awfully distracting." I turned to go back to my alternate reality, and nearly ran right into the boy that I could've sworn was behind me three seconds ago.

"Wait," he said, examining my face. "What's your name?"

This question threw me for a loop. The last guy that asked me what my name was was a nurse at my oncologist's office. And I'm pretty sure he was just filling out one of my medical sheets.

"Riley. Why?"

"The fact that you can see us is a feat in itself, but that fiery little temper might raise some questions, too." He circled me, then joined his lookalike.

"That I can _see_ you? Now you're telling me I have imaginary friends? That's new." _Has the cancer gained control of my sanity?_

He looked exasperated. He turned to the girl and met her eyes, seemingly having a conversation. Finally she came forward.

"I guess there's no harm in telling you, since you'll otherwise just end up in an asylum." She looked me in the eyes with a stubborn, serious expression. "We are Shadowhunters; Nephilim, if you may. We are half-angel warriors that fight against demons that threaten to take over this world. Our job is to protect mundanes, or humans, and keep the peace between the Shadow World."

At this, I nearly cracked up. _I've really lost it, haven't I? _The only thing that kept my laughter from bubbling over was the murderous look on the girl's face.

"Now, Livia, look polite. It would be quite hypocritical to protect one mundane only to kill another." She, Livia, seemed to relax a bit.

The boy picked up the speech where Livia left off. "All the legends of vampires, werewolves, faeries, warlocks; stories of demon monsters—they all ring true. Ever since we became a race, there have been the mundane families blessed with the Sight. In earlier times such families resided in Shadowhunter homes and Institutes, aiding the Nephilim, and in turn they lived out their lives completely provided for."

He trailed off, then began again with a start. "My best guess is that you are descended from one of these families, never exposed to the Shadow World."

I was baffled. They looked real enough, but did that really matter, if no one else could see them?

I looked at them hesitantly. "So you're saying that there is a whole other world out there, that only your kind and the occasional human can see?"

The boy looked relieved. "Yes, that's exactly–" Livia cut him off, glaring at me.

"She's being sarcastic, Ty. Poking fun." I couldn't help it. The pouty look on the guy's face was too priceless not to laugh at. I threw my head back to chuckle, but when I did so Livia gasped.

"Ty, look. On her neck!" Livia's fingers carelessly went to move my hair back, and I instinctively flinched away.

I knew what they were looking at. On the side of my neck, high enough to be covered by my hair, was a black mark. My parents always said they'd assumed that something happened to me before I came to them (yes, I was adopted); that my previous family had burned or tattooed me when I was very small, because the mark on my neck, swirling and mysterious, had never faded.

It was a sort of diamond shape with curling lines protruding from the top. The two seemed to recognize it.

"You're not a Sighted mundane, you're one of us." Uh, how about no. I was a lot of things, but I was _not_ a Shadowhunter.

"Riley, you're not normal," the guy explained. I scoffed under my breath at the irony of the statement. "You're one of us; a Shadowhunter, a servant of the angel, meant to protect mundanes."

"Yeah," I mumbled, refraining from touching the scar on my scalp. "Some Shadowhunter I'd make." I couldn't even win a battle for my own brain, much less one against some monstrous demon hoards.

Ty (so that was his name) glanced questioningly at me, taking in my hands, itching to protect my vulnerable head, and the bitter tone in my voice. If I stayed much longer, this miniature Sheldon Cooper would profile my whole life story.

"It's been nice meeting you and all," I said blankly. "But I need to get home." Not really. Mom and Dad wouldn't freak unless I wasn't back by dark.

"Toodloo!" and I took off towards home.

**Ps: I don't own anything from the Big Bang Theory, including Sheldon Cooper, or **_**LittleWomen**_**. Oh, and Coffee Stop isn't a real place, at least that I know of. :)**


	4. Warlock

I found myself looking twice at everything—checking for ninja-looking people or anything with nine heads or tentacles.

My parents looked at me weird when I retired to my room without a word. Come on, I was Riley Jones. I made a ruckus wherever I went.

Mom knocked on my door an hour later to summon me to dinner. I sighed, staring up at the strand of Christmas lights strung along my walls year-round. My mom asked me why I kept them up, and I told her that something so beautiful shouldn't have to be limited to one month of the year.

I groaned and stood stiffly from my bed, taking a moment to get the blood flowing to my head (you know—tumor, no oxygen—yeah). I sat down at the table as Mom started serving spaghetti.

I grabbed a piece of garlic bread. "How did you guys find me before I was adopted?" They both started at the question. I know this was a private subject, but if those loons thought I was a "Shadowhunter", I planned to prove them right or wrong (hopefully wrong).

My mother sputtered; Dad answered for her. "You were left on our doorstep during the night, like in the movies. It just happened to be right after we learned we couldn't have children on our own. You were our little miracle, Riley."

I thought for a moment. "And this mark was here when you found me?" I gestured to the side of my neck.

Dad sighed. "Yes. We kept you, but we had to tell the police. We took you to the hospital, too, to have a check up, and they found it. No one knew what it was. You had no other signs of. . .whatever it was. The doctors guessed you came from a home that wasn't so nice."

That made no sense. "So it's some ritualistic tattoo?" I'd done research, and this symbol hadn't shown up on any gang or religion's files.

"It's not a tattoo, though. That's what baffled them. It has no ink. It can't be removed the way tattoos are. It's like it was burned there, but it's smooth. Not at all like a burn." This was getting fishier by the second. And not only to me, but to my parents too.

"Why are you so curious about this all of a sudden?" I tried to think of a valid excuse, but my thoughts escaped me.

"I've been trying to figure out this mark, whatever it is." Which was true, I just had a purpose behind that too.

They looked relieved. What, did they think I was trying to find my real parents and leave them in the dust? I had no interest in finding the people who left me on a random couple's doorstep (no offense to that random couple), even before I got sick. My mom and dad had raised me. Nothing bound them to me, but still they stuck by me; giving up an easy, comfortable life to pay for my treatments and care for me. They were better parents than any biological mom and dad.

"I love you guys." I could tell I surprised them with that. It _was_ kind of random.

Mom got teary-eyed. "We love you too honey." Those words were nothing I didn't know. Everything they ever did expressed their unending love for me. I could only hope they knew the same for me.

You see, that's how we sick kids work. We may not love widely, but we love deeply. We don't have any vast array of friends, but those who are close are practically part of our own soul, and ours part of theirs. I had my mom and dad, that's it. But I know what I mean to them, and what they mean to me, and in my world, that's perfect.

Hours of sleep didn't faze my paranoia. As I walked along the crowded streets I still watched closely for claws, wings, webbed feet. . .

And cat eyes.

Yellowish green with slit pupils stood out like a caution cone against his human face, though remarkably fit in with his glittery getup.

My mouth dropped open. Where was a rude, sarcastic, attractive ninja/demon hunter when you needed one?

The. . .whatever he was caught my gaze. Noticing my dumbfounded expression, he looked alarmed and started towards me. I had a better idea.

I ran for the hills.

My not-so-bright idea endemic with me cornered in an alley similar to the one from yesterday by some very colorful sparkly cat man.

"I surrender!" I yelled dramatically. If I was going to die in an alley, I was going to do so with a show. "I'm not a ninja person!"

Cat Man cracked up at that. He mumbled something like 'make a Herondale proud.'

"Do you mean a Shadowhunter? I think they only call them ninjas in Japan." Cat Man had an amused twinkle in his eye.

"No, I'm not a Shadowhunter," I stated. "So therefore I will pretend you aren't half cat, if I may continue on my way."

Cat Dude chuckled and advanced on me. I was cornered, and not coordinated enough to be ninja-like, so I did what any sane person would do.

I cowered, holding my hands out in front of me. Cat Man gasped. Oh goody. This birth mark really was a turn-off, wasn't it?

"I should've guessed. You do have the spitfire attitude they described. I wouldn't be surprised if you turned out to be a long-lost Herondale."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're the Shadowhunter But Not Really that the Blackthorns ran into." I watched him closely. And bolted.

It was a pointless act. The guy was blocking my path before I took two steps.

"I'm sorry, but you will have to come with me. We can't have a mundie Nephilim out wandering the streets. Last time that happened it didn't end well." No. Not if I could help it. I wasn't like the other patients my age. I didn't want a grand story to tell—especially not that a glittery cat dude kidnapped me.

Cat Man lunged for me, but I knew what was coming. I dashed to the side and saw an empty dog food bag. The next time he came, I buried his head in the aroma of canine. I half expected him to yowl like a cat and start clawing at it, but none such was my luck. He caught my leg as I ran and I took a face dive to the concrete. I barely managed to keep my skull from collision. In the process, though, my gray beanie had flown off my head, leaving me a bit drafty on the left side.

Once again I heard him gasp. I watched his face while yanking my beanie back on as he seemed to piece it together: the incredibly short, thinning hair, the scrawny frame, and the undeniable, hideous scar on my head.

I came to my senses before he did, so I stalked over and grabbed him by his sparkly hair, and couldn't help being jealous.

"No one finds out about this. Clear?" He shook off his shock and nodded.

Suddenly blue sparks flew from his hands, morphing into a waving window showing a tall gothic church-like building. I didn't even know what was coming when Cat Man picked me up and jumped into the glistening image.

**Just so you know, the Mark on Riley is the angelic rune. I'd like to see what your guesses are on Riley's family ties. And MAGNUS! I love Magnus. :) I also love feedback, so tell me what you think!**


	5. Foundations and Families

After the swirling darkness, the first thing I saw was a group of ninj-

Sorry. _Shadowhunters_.

"Well?" I screeched. "Are you going to sit there staring, or tell Cat Man to put me down?"

A couple that I guessed was about twenty or so cracked up. The guy seemed like the teasing type. "You picked a good one there, Ty!"

The girl, who I guessed was his girlfriend, hit him over the back of the head. "Oh shut up, Jules." She turned to me. "Besides, I think we're going to be great friends." She smiled sweetly, but with a glint of trouble and sarcasm. _Yes_, I thought with a smirk. _We'll make great friends. _

"Magnus, you can put her down now," said the one I recognized from yesterday as Livia. I gave her a thankful look, that blessed girl. I was unceremoniously dumped on the floor.

"Easy now!" I hissed at Cat Man, or Magnus. He dawned a look of realization, then helped me up, whispering a quick apology in my ear.

"Okay, so now that I've been kidnapped and covered in glitter, what can I help you with?" that seemed to get the gears turning, because Ty jumped on it.

"It is quite unsafe for an oblivious Shadowhunter to be roaming around with the Sight, but no defense against the Shadow World. You need to learn how to defend yourself if you continue living in the mundane world."

"I keep telling you," I was becoming impatient, "that I am NOT A SHADOWHUNTER!" It did no good, though, because he retaliated.

He lifted my hair and revealed the mark. "Have you noticed this? This is a rune. We use them for everything: fighting, surviving, healing, or practically anything." He tugged up his sleeve. The same symbol was printed, larger, on his inner forearm. "It is the rune of angelic power. It enhances our abilities we were born with, and marks every Shadowhunter."

I was quiet. It all fit into place, only missing one piece. _Who are my real parents?_

Ty began again. "One or both of your parents were probably of Nephilim descent-"

"No," I interrupted. "I-I was adopted. Dropped of on their porch when I was small. Since then, we've been trying to find out what this mark was." Silence spread over the room. Well, there was no doubting it now. I was a Shadowhunter, but only in blood. The thought of me fighting a demon was still as laughable as ever.

"Well," said the blonde girl from earlier. "We'll figure this out in time, but for now we need to teach you how to fight. Or, at least the basics."

Another glinting knife clattered to the floor. "Agh!" I yelled and chunked another. Don't ask me where it landed. I truly have no idea. The teacher decided to skip hand-to-hand combat. It was obvious _that_ wasn't going to happen.

"Remember, a good throw starts from behind the body." The man that was training me looked about twenty-seven. He had dark hair and soft brown eyes that told of too many years and trials for his young face.

In my benefit, I did try again. Many times.

"Let's try something different," the man said. His eyes were patient; those of a good teacher. Nevertheless, I was _not_ patient, and had had enough.

"I don't see why I have to learn how to fight. I'm dying anyways," I mumbled. His head snapped back over his shoulder.

"What?" he looked an odd mix of sympathetic, understanding, and saddened. I didn't see any harm in telling him. This guy looked trustworthy enough.

"I'm already dying, so I don't see the point in defending myself from an inevitable death. I have cancer," I told him, pulling off my beanie. "Incurable."

He put his hand on my shoulder, and that in itself was comforting. "I understand what you're thinking. That was me at one time. It's a long story that contains a lot hard times, but I'm glad now that I didn't give up." I saw it now, that air of someone who a) knows what it's like to be dying, and b) hasn't actually died. *

He smoothed my raggedy, thin mop of hair, and I had a sudden urge to spill my thoughts and troubles, and to cry for the unfairness of it all. I didn't, though. Because those weren't his problems.

"You can talk to me whenever. I'll probably always be in the library. My wife, the woman you probably saw when you came through the portal with brown hair, and I would be glad to help. The other kids aren't very talkative with us." I felt relieved. It would be nice to have a confidant here.

"What was your name again?" My face turned red in embarrassment. It had slipped my mind before to ask his name.

He laughed. "You can call me Jem."

**PLEASE tell me your thoughts! **

***I do not own content from TFIOS**


	6. Too Little, Too Late

We came to the consensus that I would continue to come train at the Institute every day (mostly for the sake of not being kidnapped again). For the next few days Tiberius and I would meet at Coffee Stop and he would escort me to the Institute and back, since I was so unceremoniously dumped through a portal last time and had no idea where to go.

I bid everyone farewell and we were off, Tiberius and I. The kid really didn't have much to say. Either that or he just really didn't want anything to do with a teenage Shadowhunter with no training. We walked for about ten minutes, and finally I couldn't take the silence anymore.

"So what do you like to do? Besides killing things?" He looked startled by my sudden outburst. He glanced shyly at me from under his long dark lashes. I couldn't help but notice how they contrasted with the pallor of his face.

"Umm, I like to. . .read?" Ooh, a nerd? It's about time. I was starting to wonder if there was ever going to be a guy with the sense to read.

I couldn't contain my excitement. "Really? What kind of books?" Please be classics, please be classics!

He blushed. "Well, I keep up to date with Young Adult novels, but I prefer Dickens and Brontë." He ducked his head at the end to cover his blush. I'm pretty sure I gave him a heart attack, but I exploded into book-mode.

"Are you serious?" I squealed. "Have you read Little Women? I don't believe this! I love old classics!" He stared at me like a deer into headlights, probably wondering if something had gone haywire in my head, which quite accurate.

After a moment his expression lost the shock and he looked giddy. "Yeah, that's one of my favorites. Our instructor, Jem, suggested A Tale of Two Cities. Is it good?" I'd read that one about a year ago.

"Yeah, it's great, I think you'd like it." And just like that, we had an invisible, wordless agreement. After all, we bookworms have to stick together.

"So," I glanced over at Tiberius. "Now that I told you something about me, tell me something about you." I pondered that for a second. I wasn't that interesting. I told him just that. He scoffed. "In the short time that I've known you, you have been anything but boring." Okay then.

"If you must know, I have very twisted thoughts. So if you're offended by what comes out of my mouth, just keep in mind my sincerity by keeping the worst inside." He snorted, then burst into a fit of giggles, which set me off. "Oh, and I slept with a stuffed bee until I was 15." Soon we had to stop and lean up against the side of a building, trying to contain our laughter. Granted, that bee was my seizure alarm which I replaced with a wristband when I turned 16, but I still found it amusing.

"I expected something like that from you, but the bad thing is, so did I." I stopped short, staring at him, then let my forehead fall onto his chest, cracking up again. I felt him shake with laughter.

We resumed our trip, occasionally giggling. It was only 5:00, so we took a detour to Coffee Stop for a few minutes. He ordered an espresso, claiming that he had to have something to keep him awake on the way back, since he wasn't going to have me. I rolled my eyes and gave the barista my normal order: a mint chocolate mocha.

I led him to my booth (yes, my booth, he was receiving that honor). We talked about A Tale of Two Cities, and he promised to have it read in a few days. I learned that he had quite a large family. There was Helen, who was already moved out, and Mark, who was part of the Wild Hunt (whatever that was), taken hostage during the Dark War. Then there was Julian, or Jules, who I saw earlier with his parabatai, Emma. Livia was Tiberius's twin, and Drusilla and Octavian are both younger than him. He had a loving glint in his striking gray eyes when he discussed his family. He told me to call him Ty, because Tiberius was too formal for him.

At about sunset, I realized I was expected home soon. I hated to end our conversation, especially since I probably wouldn't get much more time to just talk. Not to mention this was the longest conversation I'd ever had with a boy.

He offered to walk me back to my house, but I politely declined. If Mom saw me with a guy, she might revoke my freedom during the day.

"Well," he smiled. "I will see you tomorrow, Miss Jones." He opened the door for me.

"I guess you will, Mr. Blackthorn."

The next morning I dressed and ate breakfast with a newfound giddiness. I wasn't looking forward to epically failing in training, but I could deal with that if I got to see Ty. It's not just that he's a boy (a quite cute one at that) who actually will talk to me, but he's the first friend (my age) I've had since I was diagnosed.

I left the house as early as possible without tipping Mom off. I had an extra spring in my step as I found my way to Coffee Stop. The bell tinkered as I pushed open the door, and met a pair of delicately framed sterling eyes. The corners of my mouth pulled up into a smile. Ty flashed his own toothy grin, which made me giggle. I turned to the counter. The barista nodded, then smirked and winked. I could feel the heat rush to my cheeks, and hoped Ty didn't notice.

I sipped my coffee as we traveled through the busy L.A. streets. The long-ish walk felt like only two blocks just being beside Ty.

"So where do you go to school?" The question caught me off guard. Why would he care about something so trivial?

"I, uh, don't." I inspected my navy sneakers.

"You don't go to school?"

"No, I guess you could say I've been homeschooled the past few years." Ty looked confused.

"Okay, so who are your best friends?"

"You. And Jem." He gave me an amused look.

"Riley, we don't count. You've only known us a day."

"That's not true! I've known you for two!" He looked exasperated. I sighed. "I'm serious, though."

"No way, a girl like you has to have a truckload of friends." I was shocked. What was that supposed to mean? I turned to ask him just that, but my mouth was silenced with his. He was kissing me!

As soon as it happened, it was over, and he was sprinting up the Institute steps, leaving me there, gaping at the spot were he'd stood.

When I got my bearings, I raced after him yelling, "Hey! You get back here!" I soon realized that I wasn't going to catch him unless he wanted me to. Just inside the doors were about fifty different paths he could have taken.

Jem's wife, Tessa, came running into the entryway at the racket, her brown curls flying behind her. She sighed in relief when she found me, not injured, only slightly lost.

"Come on, dear," she gestured for me to follow, setting off down a hallway. "You won't be finding him anytime soon in this labyrinth."

We soon entered the library, grand and vast. The shelves went on, endlessly surrounding countless levels, connected by two winding staircases. I stood in awe of the artistry in this room alone.

"Shadowhunter training consists of much more than wielding sharp objects." Thank goodness. "There is much knowledge that comes with it. In order to kill a demon, you must know its weak spots, and what weapons it can be killed with. And then there is basic knowledge of the Shadow World—histories and such." Tessa grinned at me. "That's what we'll be focusing on today."

About ten people total were seated around the table. Lunch at the Institute, I'd learned, was not a formal event. It involved yelling, tossing food across the table, and practically falling out of chairs laughing when a joke was told.

It was a good thing, because this way no one noticed when I repeatedly glanced at Ty, trying to meet his gaze. He regrettably kept his eyes on his plate.

My thoughts were interrupted by a series of soft but shrill 'beep's. I was confused until I saw the blinking light on my wristband. I probably needed to replace the batteries. I don't even know why I still have to wear the stupid thing—I haven't had a seizure in years. They were mostly before the doctors removed part of the tumor.

I took a bite of my sandwich, reveling in the fact that the meat tasted fresh and unprocessed. A hand reached to snap in front of my face. I followed the arm that led back to Emma. She grinned.

"So you like the sandwich?" She used that Teasing But Friendly voice.

"Why yes, I am." The blonde snickered to herself and turned back to her parabatai. I grinned and picked my sandwich back up. I raised it to my mouth, and took a big bite of. . .air. I looked again and saw five hands holding sandwiches.

Oh no.

A piercing shrill alarm echoed horribly in the cave-like dining room. My limbs shook spastically and knocked over my plate and cup, which both clattered on the floor. Fifty pairs of eyes whipped toward me, and I couldn't breathe. I did exactly what every doctor will tell you not to do during a seizure—I panicked.

My eyelids fluttered uncontrollably and I slipped from my chair. Someone caught my head just before it struck the ground. I faintly recognized various voices yelling in the background as the edges of my blurred vision started to blacken from lack of oxygen. I was probably blue by now as my body spasmed and jerked. I lost my grip on consciousness, and the shadowed faces above me faded to black.


	7. Revealed

I honestly don't know what came over me, kissing Riley. By the angel, what was wrong with me? Girls like her come around. . .well, they don't come around. Ever. And I think I just wasted my chance at simple friendship with her.

It's not like she was stunningly beautiful; she didn't have long luscious locks of silky hair, or perfectly tanned skin, or a curvy figure. But her troublemaker grin drew you in, made you want to know the sarcastic remarks she kept to herself. Her dark amber eyes, though framed by a thin coat of lashes, spoke of many stories—the eyes of an avid reader. She was willowy—just nearly skin and bones—and was coated in skin that hadn't seen the sun in years. Her cropped brunette hair was soft and thin; I'd taken the chance to touch it while explaining her rune. She was no fashionista, but she wore the tomboy look like a pro.

You could say it was love at first sight, because it was that first meeting when I realized I was hooked, but it was more like love at first word. The moment she opened her snarky mouth, she had my heart in the palm of her hand. I fell much too quickly for my liking, as most of the greatest loves come slowly, and without warning. I guess I fell in love with Riley the way you fall in love with a character from a book—by their words, actions and thoughts, their secrets and emotions. The way they feel every moment; the passion they have for things they love—and then their appearance is just the icing on the cake. Riley was striking yet subtle—unforgettable. Which was why I worried for her reaction to my lack of self-control.

I purposefully keep my eyes fixated on my plate during lunch. I'm going to put this off for as long as I can, which is not long considering I'm going to be walking her home this evening.

The usual banter at the table ensues, and as expected, at least one person ends up spattered with thrown food. Emma catches my attention when she speaks to the object of my averted attention.

"Are you enjoying the sandwich?" I noticed Riley's blissful expression with a quick glance.

"Why yes, I am." I nearly snorted. Emma and Riley would be an infernal pair in no time. I took a risk and watched Riley as she went to take another bite. Except, she missed her sandwich by a good four inches. Her face contorted in fear and a piercing series of "beep"s shot through the dining room.

Every eye snapped in her direction as Riley dropped the sandwich in a frenzy of violently shaking limbs. A wayward arm smacked her plate and cup onto the floor where the shards created a minefield of glittering glass.

Her body pitched sideways toward the mess. Jem, sitting to her left, rushed to catch her head before it struck the ground. Everyone practically flew to her side and panicked, so I shoved myself to the front.

"Riley!" It took me a few moments to realize I had screamed. She was completely blue—she wasn't breathing. _What was going on? _Her eyelids fluttered spastically, slowing as she lost consciousness.

Just five minutes ago I was worried about what Riley would think about me kissing her, and now she was out cold, bleeding from the glass she landed on because of who knows what.

Jem started shouting orders. "Julian, go fetch Magnus. Tell him it's an emergency." Julian nodded and took off. "Tessa, Emma, get her to the infirmary. I'm going to send for the Silent City." That's right, he must have special connections there.

The two women lifted Riley's tiny frame and speeded to the infirmary wing. I ran after, wondering what by the angel had happened. They laid her on the stark white sheets, her blood spotting them with crimson. A flurry of glitter and blue sparks appeared beside Riley. _Magnus_.

"What happened?" Magnus didn't bother with pleasantries, and I was glad.

I answered before either of the girls could open their mouths. "She started twitching and fell out of her chair. She wasn't breathing and she passed out. Oh, and some alarm thing went off."

The warlock's eyes locked on Riley's bracelet and his face blanched. He began working in a frenzy. _Oh no. _

"What's wrong? What happened?" I demanded. Magnus didn't take his eyes or focus off Riley when he answered.

"She had a seizure. A pretty bad one by the looks of it. This can't be a good sign."

"A good sign? Of what?" Wasn't the seizure in itself the danger?

Magnus seemed reluctant, but shook it off. "It wasn't my place to tell, but I don't exactly have a choice. She has brain cancer, and seizures are often a sign of the tumor growing and affecting surrounding brain tissue."

My whole world collapsed. My mind shut down as it relayed those words. _Cancer, tumor, growing._ My vision blurred and I bolted from the room. Tessa and Emma's shocked faces only added to the turmoil inside my head.

_"Yeah, some Shadowhunter I'd make,"_ I reminisced on Riley's words that day. It made sense now. She didn't go to school, she said she had no close friends. Her hair, which I thought was just part of her style, was still growing out from treatment, and her bony frame wasn't just a coincidence. I couldn't believe it. _Cancer_. The universe just simply couldn't allow someone so perfect to have a simple life.

I found myself outside my room. I slid my back down the wall, burying my head in my hands. _Why?_


	8. The Light

When the eternal blackness began to recede, I awoke in a fairly large sickroom. There were probably around twenty beds, and the walls were scrawled with healing and strength runes. I turned my head and jumped when I came face-to-face with a not so face-like face.

"By the Angel, you need a makeover," I muttered. I'll spare the gory details, but I'll just say that silent brothers should really try not to scare the pants off their patients when they wake. It was at that point I realized I was not wearing any.

Really now? I understood the reasoning behind everything else the shadowhunters did that was totally humiliating, but this was beyond mortifying. Nothing could be more degrading than taking someone's pants, therefore their dignity. Granted I was in a hospital-like gown, but my point still stands.

An echoing voice entered my mind. _She has quite the mouth, doesn't she?_

"That she does, Brother Enoch." It was Tessa. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least someone I knew was in the room. We'd gone over the Brotherhood in lessons, but their monstrous faces still creeped me out.

_At least she didn't attempt escape_. Tessa blushed. Another figure came into view.

"You tried to escape, Tessa?" She nodded to her husband. Jem looked amused.

I giggled at the mental picture of the brunette scrambling away and banging on the door. Three—well, two—pairs of eyes turned to me and sobered.

Tessa looked sad. "Riley, why didn't you tell us? We wouldn't have made you train and risk-"

"That's exactly why." I felt my anger and frustration rising. "Because people always treat you differently when they know you're dying." I could visibly see Jem wince at that, but I kept going.

"I wanted to have at least some friends that I could be normal with. I want to be a teenager. I want to have some people that aren't constantly afraid I'm going to break. Don't you understand? My death certificate is practically already signed. I don't care about the risk. I don't want to spend the rest of my life afraid to live." I glanced again at Jem. "I want to put as much life into it as possible."

Tessa had tears in her eyes, and by now so did Jem. "Oh, Riley. That's not how we see you. You're one of the strongest people we know. If you're not a shadowhunter, I don't know who is." The woman pulled me into a hug and whispered, "You remind me so much of Jem." I figured this was a story for another time.

I noticed that Brother Enoch was still sitting quietly on another bed. Jem cleared his throat and spoke.

"So, do the Brothers have a way to cure her?" I had never even thought of that! The Silent Brothers were excellent doctors; no doubt better than those at the mundane hospitals. They might be able to find a cure!

_Unfortunately_, said Brother Enoch, _such a disease is not an area of specialty in the Silent City. Nephilim usually do not contract human illnesses, so there has never been a case of cancer in a Shadowhunter before. Mundane doctors would have just as much luck helping her as we would._

My hopes shattered. Not even a world of supernatural warriors and demons had a cure for such a monstrosity.

_However_, Enoch contradicted, _we can help with some of the side effects. We can make sure her condition does not worsen with seizures. But as the cancer progresses, they will become harder to prevent._

I nodded solemnly. I don't know why this is so shocking to me now. It's not the first time I'd been told I was dying and there was nothing to do about it.

I stood shakily from the bed, waving off Jem and Tessa when they came to help. They reluctantly watched as I pulled on my beanie and stumbled out of the infirmary into the grand hallway.

"Oh, great," I muttered to myself. I forgot how much of a maze this place was. I decided to wander around aimlessly until I found someone. I really needed to know what time it was. If I wasn't home by dark I'd have to tell Mom and Dad about my little incident.

I heard a faint humming coming from down the hall, and followed it to an open door. I peeked in and found Ty's twin, Livia, polishing a gleaming sword. I quietly stepped into the room and asked, "Do you know what time it is?"

She jumped nearly two feet into the air. "Good gracious, you scared me." She took a few deep breaths and looked at me. Her eyes softened slightly. Oh great. "It's 4:27. And Riley?"

"Yeah?"

She looked troubled. "I'm sorry if we got off to a bad start. I'm just really protective of Ty. It's just kind of instinct." I nodded understandingly.

"It's fine. It's actually something I admire."

She blushed and said, "Thank you. And go easy on Ty, he isn't taking all of this too well." My stomach dropped to the floor. I almost forgot, he kissed me this morning!

I ducked my head and took off down the hall. I had to walk home with him today. This would've been awkward even if he hadn't have kissed me, but now it seemed downright dreadful.

I paid no attention to where I was running, until I ran strait into a tall, lean black-clad figure. _Speak of the devil. _

My eyes slowly trailed up to meet Tiberius' sterling gaze. He stared for a few seconds before grabbing me by the arm and hastily pulling me into the nearest room.

Once inside, he crushed me in his arms, clinging to me. His voice shook as he whispered, "Why?" A gasp shook his body. "Why, why, why..." He trailed off into sobs, and I wrapped my own arms around his torso, comforting him as best I could.

I understood that this was a gray topic to learn of, but Ty had only known me for three days. I ached to ask him, why was this such a big deal for him?

But I let him vent, I let him cry, and I'll admit I let a few tears slip, because now I had something to lose besides my parents—another family.

"It's so unfair." Ty mumbled against my shoulder. And it was. It was horribly, cruelly, and viciously unfair—but then again, when did life ever play by the rules?

"I'm so sorry," I told him. His head snapped away from it's resting place.

"Don't say that, you have no reason to be sorry. None of this is your fault." But it was my fault. His pain—all of their pain—was my own grievous fault. I was supposed to protect them, from me and from their own hurt. I had one job, and I failed at it.

"I was responsible for myself, and for the hurt I caused, and just look at what I've done." Something dawned on his face, and Ty put both his hands on my face, forcing me to look at him.

"Listen to me, Riley. I wouldn't trade knowing you to save me any amount of pain. These three days that I've known you have been the best three days of my life. Every second of laughter, happiness and hurt; they have given me life like I've never known it before."

His eyes were radiating the intensity of his words. "My future was laid out for me before I was born: learn to fight demons, fight demons, die fighting demons. But you, you make your own destiny. You are showing me what it is to live your own life, the way you want to live it, Riley." His eyes welled up with unshed tears.

He leaned forward and, for the second time today, captured my lips with his. This time, though, I knew he meant it.


End file.
